


Return from the Grey Havens

by BlackValentine, Hauk



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Battle of Five Armies, Gen, I promise a happy ending, M/M, Writer is a sadist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackValentine/pseuds/BlackValentine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hauk/pseuds/Hauk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Grey Havens weren't where you went to die? What if instead it was where you went after death? And what if, once a year, you were allowed to return to Middle Earth as a living, breathing being again? One day to do whatever it was you needed or wanted to do. One day to see your loved ones again. One last day to make things right. What would you do with that day? And how could you say goodbye?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Tags/warnings/characters/relationships will be added as the story progresses.

_It was daytime, but no sunlight would reach them now. Darkness had sprung upon them like a wild animal from the brush, bringing along with it roaring thunder that trembled along the icy wind, penetrating their clothing and indeed their very skin._

_Outside of the mountain, there had been arguing for many days. Bickering, really, but not many had been allowed to partake in the conversation. Inside the mountain was a myriad of emotions, ranging from joy and relief, to anger and outrage, to sorrow and confusion, with many wandering somewhat lost amongst them all. Being the youngest, Kili knew little about what had caused the hatred and distrust between the races, but knew the men and elves had come demanding shares of the profits, and this angered him greatly, albeit not for the same reasons._

_Kili, like his brother, had yet to develop the great love of gold and precious gems that most of the elder dwarves carried. To him, they were something to be looked at and admired, but not yet something to be fought over and died for. No, what angered him was that these races, who had not once lent a hand when their home had been taken siege, now wanted a share of the treasure that Thorin’s company had fought and nearly died to recover. How dare they demand something they had no part in reclaiming?! Fili, he knew, was outraged as well, but his brother was the older and the wiser of the two, and better at restraining his emotions. Kili was hotheaded and often times rash, something that had only somewhat dimmed over the course of their journey, and something that the blonde dwarf was still trying to work on with his simmering little brother._

_“Uncle will never let them take his treasure, Kee,” Fili assured him, but Kili shook his head._

_“He will not allow them to have it because he is greedy over it, not because it is our home and our right. He is falling to it just as our ancestors did!” The dark-haired lad was pacing the stone floors, hands clasped behind his back and fidgeting. He looked so much like Thorin that Fili could not answer right away, instead looking over to Balin for help. The wise Dwarf returned his stare, his own eyes sympathetic under his own outrage, but shook his head. He could not help when they all felt much the same way. Fili sighed._

_“That may be so,” he pushed on, “but perhaps after they leave someone can…”_

_The words were cut off by Gandalf’s booming voice outside. Fili stood and walked over to stand near his brother, who had stopped pacing to stare out of the nearby entrance. The wizard was calling to the present armies, warning them of a coming storm, and Kili felt his brother tense beside him._

_“Did he say Goblins?” “And Wargs…” Fili added with a nod. Dwalin growled nearby, his dark eyes narrowed as he watched the sea of bats filling the already darkened sky._

_“Blasted creatures should go back to the depths where they belong!”_

_At once, the company headed outside, their expressions filtering from shock and then to anger before finally settling on grim determination. The world around them grew darker and colder, causing many of them to shiver at the bone-shredding chill. At Gandalf’s command, the Dwarves of the Iron Hills were allowed to pass the ranks of Men and Elves, and at not one second too soon._

_The battle was upon them._


	2. Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili's death and entrance into the Grey Havens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are going to be several of these chapters first before the real story begins. Each chapter with a character name as the chapter title and the story in full italics is explaining how that character died.

_“Did he say Goblins?”_

_Kili turned his head to stare at his older brother, who was staring out at the gathering darkness, unable to tear his eyes away as he nodded._

_“And Wargs,” the blonde added. Kili swallowed harshly as nearby Dwalin growled at the sea of bats flying in over the plains._

_“Blasted creatures should go back to the depths where they belong!”_

_Outside, the Dwarves of the Iron Hills were making their way through the ranks of Men and Elves, finally allowed passage at Gandalf’s orders. Thorin’s company stood at the entrance to the mountain, a few of them shivering as the bitter wind whipped across the valley, chilling them to the very bone. The hoard of bats further darkened the already turbulent sky, their screeches cut off by a roll of angry thunder as the Goblins came swarming towards them._

_“Fili…” Kili whispered, arrogant eyes laced with fear as the Men and Elves cried out at the sight of their foes. At once, he felt his brother’s calloused hand enclose around his own, squeezing it tightly._

_“Right here, Kili. Right here.”_

_Kili nodded at his brother’s reassurance, his heart racing. The Elves let out a battle cry, their horns blaring as they charged the Goblin ranks with Thranduil leading them into battle. Suddenly Thorin was there in front of them, pushing them back._

_“Into the mountain. Now!” He commanded, catching Kili’s eyes for a brief moment before pushing at them again. Not needing any more encouragement to get away from the battle, the company fled back into the mountain. Thorin closed the front gates, protecting them from an onslaught, and then they were following their king through the rooms until they reached the treasure hoard once more._

_“Arm yourselves, quickly!” Thorin called, grabbing more armor down from the walls to toss amongst the others. Kili grabbed a suit for himself, pulling it on as Fili pulled on his own, and restocked his quiver with all the arrows he could find. All too soon they were running back towards the entrance, the sounds of battle growing louder with each pounding step. At the gate, Thorin stopped and turned to face them all._

_“I do not expect all of you to follow me blindly into battle.” He began, but was interrupted by Kili’s snort._

_“And where else do you expect us to go, uncle? Back into the temporary safety of the mountain while you go out there and defend it by yourself?” He paused to shake his head before turning arrogant dark eyes back to stare at their leader. “We have followed you this far; we are not stopping here.” Cheers rang up from the other Dwarves, a couple of them clapping him on the back, and Kili thought he could see a bare smile twitch the corner of Thorin’s mouth and a hint of pride in those crystal eyes._

_“Very well, then,” the king replied, lifting Orcrist into the air. “To war!”_

_“To war!” The others roared as they ran to the levers which moved a hidden entrance in the wall. Quickly they pushed and pulled until the wall came crashing down, allowing them free passage into the battle. Out they rushed, with Kili turning to fire arrows at the Goblins throwing rocks down upon them, and swiftly they moved through their foes into the heart of the battle. Staying close to his brother, Kili could hear their uncle calling all of the allies back towards the wall, but there were so many enemies that he couldn’t pay attention to much other than taking them down._

_“What, are they multiplying as we kill them?!” Kili exclaimed as he beheaded another Goblin, barely dodging the Warg that charged him before it was struck down by Fili._

_“It’s as if the entire Goblin kingdom has emptied onto our doorstep!” The blonde replied, whirling around with his double blades to slash more of the Goblin foes. The younger grimaced at the memory of being taken hostage in that damned kingdom, then jumped as an arrow flew past his head to land square between the eyes of a Warg that had nearly been on him. Looking up, one of the Elves nearby gave him a brief nod, which Kili returned before spinning around to continue the fight. The day drew on and their bodies grew weary as the Goblins continued pouring down around them and the clouds split to reveal a sky as bloody as the ground upon which they were standing._

_Suddenly out of the commotion came Thorin’s voice, calling for his nephews amidst the battle. Kili looked up from the creature he had stabbed, then called for Fili as he began slashing and hacking his way through their enemies towards his uncle’s voice. Minutes felt like hours as they worked side by side through the thick sludge of creatures, tripping over bodies as they went, and both brothers froze when they finally came upon their target. Thorin was fighting alone, surrounded by the unrelenting Goblins, and Kili could see the dark stains on the king’s clothing. With a growl of renewed strength, he gritted his teeth and charged at the Goblins, slashing at them as Fili charged the other side. Together, the three of them fought back the tightening circle, but their enemies were relentless in their blood-thirsty quest._

_“The Eagles!,” a voice shouted somewhere to their left. “The Eagles are coming!”_

_Hacking down yet another Warg, Kili lifted his eyes to the sky, where large, dark shapes were coming swiftly down from the sky. Hope sparked in him once more, kindled even further by a flood of relief as one of the Eagles swept down and lifted their gravely injured uncle from the ground. Kili moved over quickly, free of the battle due to the Goblin’s fear of the sky lords, and took Thorin’s hand in his own._

_“We will fight for you, uncle. They will not take your home from you. Not again.” The young Dwarf promised quietly, holding Thorin's glassy stare. The Eagle took flight, bearing Thorin away from the battle, leaving Kili staring after him with a soft prayer that their uncle would live to be King under the Mountain once more._

_“Kili! Look out!”_

_He whirled around at Fili’s shout, narrowly avoiding the arrow aimed at him, but the surprise of it caught him off-guard, and the second arrow hit his shoulder with a solid thud._

_“Kili!”_

_Kili stared at the arrow, knowing it should hurt, knowing he should be in pain, but he felt nothing. With his promise to Thorin echoing in his mind, he let out a cry and charged the Goblin archer, slamming him down and cutting his bow in half with one fell swoop of his sword. The next arrow caught him in the side, and he paused long enough to think about how warm the blood felt before turning to attack the next one. He could see Fili only a couple yards away, his brother fighting desperately to reach him, and found himself thinking that at least his brother would survive. Fili was more clear-headed than he was, had always trained harder in sword-fighting than he had, and would make a perfect prince under Thorin’s rule in Erebor. Kili smiled to his brother, his lucidity fading as his body bled into itself, and was still smiling when the third arrow struck him in his lower ribs, puncturing one of his lungs._

_“Kili! No!”_

_The ground was tilting, the sky streaking above him as he fell backwards, the dirt beneath him warm from the blood of those already passed. Kili gasped for breath, his eyes wide and staring up at the red-streaked sky. Then a shape was blocking his view, and he had to fight to focus his eyes until he saw that it was Fili, his Fili, those gorgeous blue eyes panicked as they stared down at him. He felt hands on him, and they felt so warm against his cold skin._

_“Fili…” He said, but the action brought about a coughing fit that caused blood to trickle from the corner of his mouth._

_“Kili, no. No, stay with me. Please stay with me.” Fili was begging him, pleading with him, but Kili couldn’t oblige this time. He’d always done what Fili had asked him, but this time, it was beyond his control._

_“I’m sorry, Fee,” Kili whispered, heaving another breath as his body screamed for oxygen. “I’m sorry…”_

_Fili was sobbing, his eyes swimming like the clearest ocean as he stared at his baby brother, and Kili pulled all of his strength into himself so he could lift a hand to place on his brother’s dirty cheek._

_“I love you, Fee,” Kili breathed out, making Fili hitch a sob and shake his head, covering Kili’s cold hand with his own._

_“…I love you, too, Kili.”_

_“And we… we will see each other… again. I’ll wait for… for you…”_

_Kili’s voice was barely a whisper, his breathing alternating between harsh gasps and shallow breaths as the color faded from his face. Fili nodded, still clinging to Kili’s hand._

_“You better be. I love you…”_

_“I l-lo… t-too…”_

_A soft whooshing sound signaled his last breath leaving his body as Kili’s eyes closed and the world went dark. All sounds of the battle faded into nothing, joining the eternal darkness as a sense of peace filled him. His body felt light, free of pain and grief and sorrow, free of worry and desperate determination. Just… free. Time ceased to exist as he floated through the inky darkness, and although he was unable to see at all, he felt no fear; rather, he felt a sense of safety he hadn’t felt since he’d been a child wrapped in his mother’s arms. Was this what death felt like?_

_Just as that thought passed through his mind, he felt the ground underneath him again, and opened his eyes to find himself lying on the ground with an Elf crouched near him, a gentle smile on his eternally young face._

_“Creoso, astalder,” Welcome, valiant one. “To the Grey Havens…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are loved :)


	3. Balin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balin's death and entrance into the Grey Havens.

_“He will not allow them to have it because he is greedy over it, not because it is our home and our right. He is falling to it just as our ancestors did!”_

_Balin flinched as Kili’s accusatory voice rang out in the stone hall. When had the young lads begun to mature? If anyone had asked him, he would tell them that neither ever really paid attention to his history lessons, but since Thorin refused to speak of Thror’s downfall, the lads must have been listening after all. Lifting his gaze from the axe he had been sharpening, he caught Fili’s questioning eyes. Balin knew that look; Fili was silently asking him, nay, begging him to say something helpful to make them both feel better, but this time there was nothing he could say. Kili was right, after all, and how could one dispute the truth? He himself was astounded at the nerve of the Men and Elves who had come so demanding to their doors, and while he disapproved of Thorin’s reasoning behind refusing them the treasure, he was certainly not going to argue and claim they deserved it._

_When Fili turned away, Balin lowered his gaze back to his axe once more, only to snap his head back up at the sound of Gandalf’s booming voice. More enemies were coming. Mahal help them all. He followed the lads and the rest of the company out of the entrance and stood shell-shocked at the sight. His brother snarled something next to him, but it was lost on his ears as the squealing and shrieking of Goblins mixed with the barking of Wargs and the cries of their supposed allies. A blaring horn snapped him from the shock, followed quickly by Thorin shouting commands at them, and he ran back inside ahead of Dwalin, who helped their king to close and secure the gates._

_“Thorin, what if they are overrun?” Balin asked as he watched them secure the gate shut. Thorin turned to him with cold eyes, but they were laced with a regret visible only to those who knew how to look at him._

_“Then they are overrun,” Thorin responded. “I will not risk my city, my home, and my people any more than I already have.”_

_With that, he ran past them deeper into the mountain, leaving them all with no choice but to follow him. In the treasure room, they armed themselves with fresh weapons and armor, then returned back to the gate, ready to face the onslaught that lay beyond the walls._

_“I do not expect all of you to follow me blindly into battle,” Thorin admitted as he stared at them._

_“And where else do you expect us to go, uncle? Back into the temporary safety of the mountain while you go out there and defend it by yourself?” Kili spoke up, standing as always at the front of the group with his brother, the two ready to defend their uncle to the end. “We have followed you this far; we are not stopping here.”_

_“Thorin,” Balin said quietly as the others cheered and ran towards the levers that would lower the hidden wall. The king turned to him, staring down at him in a way that had never felt condescending to the shorter Dwarf. “Whatever happens out there, we are with you. We were with you when we left that little Hobbit hole, and we are with you now.”_

_Thorin nodded, but his eyes were sad. “Many of them may die out there, Balin. Many already have. I cannot bear the guilt of losing them.”_

_“But it is their choice, laddie. Remember that. You are forcing them into nothing. All of this has been our choice. It is our home, too, and we would see you King under the Mountain once more.”_

_Thorin inhaled deeply and nodded again, clasping his old friend on the shoulder before walking away to the lowering wall._

_“Think you could hit above their knees this time?”_

_Balin turned at the deep voice and smirked up at his younger, yet much larger brother._

_“If you think you could perhaps lower yourself enough so as to not swing over their heads,” he shot back, making Dwalin laugh despite the grim situation._

_“See you once they are dead,” the larger Dwarf said, pulling out his axe as he headed towards the wall._

_“Once they are dead,” Balin agreed, then nodded to himself and charged towards the lowered wall, following Thorin into the heart of the fray._

_The fighting seemed endless. Goblins poured over the mountain like slimy water, immediately replacing those they killed with twice as many more, and the Wargs seemed to grow larger and larger with each one felled. Balin was growing weary, not only physically but in soul as well as memories plagued him. The infamous Battle of Azanulbizar, where they had lost so many and so much, kept returning to haunt him as he struck down the Goblins one by one until all he could see was the amount of death surrounding him. The thought of his friends, of Thorin or the lads or, Mahal forbid, of Dwalin lying there amongst the dead was nearly too much for him to handle. His naturally calm demeanor was cracking, his inner defenses crumbling and nearly gone when he heard Bilbo’s voice calling like some angel of mercy._

_“The Eagles!” Bilbo was crying from somewhere far off away from him. “The Eagles are coming!”_

_From his place, Balin could see the great Eagles descending upon the Goblins and Wargs, sending those who could escape scattering in fear while those slower fell victim to the Eagle’s talons. One of the larger Eagles rose from the fray more carefully than the rest, and Balin could see something held carefully in its talons, something familiar that glinted in the red light of the sunset._

_“Be safe, my king,” he whispered, kissing his own fingertips and pressing them over his heart before turning around to slam into the Goblins once more. The battle continued for a great length of time, and night was falling over the land when suddenly a great cry was heard. There was a roaring like thunder, though the storm had long since passed, and then the Goblins were scattering, fleeing for their lives. Elves, Men, and Dwarves alike took up a cry and chased the remaining enemies away from the valley, killing off any they caught while the Elves took to shooting those who had almost gotten away._

_And then it was over. There was a brief cheer of victory and relief, but all too soon the weight of grief over their losses blanketed them, and turning back towards the Lonely Mountain, they were met with the sight of utter destruction and death. The ground was gone, lost under the sea of bodies and broken weapons and blood. Once again, Balin felt himself torn back to the Battle of Azanulbizar. How were they to celebrate their victory when it had come at such a cost? Slowly they made their way back towards the mountain, gathering up the wounded along the way. Balin found his brother along the way, hidden amongst the Men who were as tall or taller than he, and abandoned all dignity as he ran across the field to cling to Dwalin’s waist with tears in his eyes._

_“I had thought you lost…” Balin said as he held his brother close, relieved as the other’s large arms came around him._

_“You cannot be rid of me so easily, brother.”_

_They stood there for several minutes, grateful that each had survived yet another battle, then walked side by side back towards the mountain, searching for the rest of their company along the way. Most they found searching in return for each other as well, and Balin informed them of Thorin’s rescue._

_“Are we all here, then? Are we all good?” Dwalin asked, looking around at their group. The rest joined him in checking each other off the list, until Bofur’s quiet voice shakily spoke._

_“Fili and Kili. They aren’t here.”_

_The company fell silent for a stuttered heartbeat, and then they were running, calling the names of their princes as they stumbled over the bodies of the fallen. Balin ran in the direction he had seen Thorin lifted from, followed quickly by his brother. Knowing the lad’s loyalty, they would not have strayed far from their king if they could help it. The voices of the company were still calling their names when Balin saw the dirty blonde hair, stopping him dead in his tracks. His heart stopped beating, too lodged in his constricted throat to pump. Fili lay over his little brother, both of them riddled with arrows protruding from their armor and neither of them breathing._

_“Oh, lads…” Balin whispered, his eyes tearing as he walked to them slowly. “Oh, boys…”_

_He knelt in the dirt near them, placing one shaking hand on Fili’s shoulder as his gaze lowered to Kili’s peaceful face. Dwalin came to kneel by him, his breathing disrupted by the lump in his throat as he, too, stared at the young princes._

_“Can you carry them, brother? They deserve to be in their home.”_

_Dwalin nodded and they both set to work, gently pulling the arrows from the chilled bodies before Dwalin lifted them both into his arms, holding them just as they had lain on the ground. The others had noticed the two kneeling during the retraction of the arrows, and stood in a grim half-circle around them, silently mourning their fallen. Balin glanced up to his brother for silent conformation that he had the lads all right, then turned and led the silent, sorrowful procession past the Elves and Men into their city. They were brought to the tombs and settled there together in one, for no one could ever separate them… Not in life, nor in death._

_“I am sorry, lads. I am so… so sorry…” Balin whispered as they moved the heavy stone slab over the tomb, sealing the prince’s into their protected bed._

_“Balin, Dwalin, you are needed.”_

_They looked up at Oin’s tight voice, Balin’s heart clenching once again at the pain in the other’s eyes. Thorin. Hurrying over, he followed the medic into another room with Dwalin right behind him, and there they found Thorin. There lay their king, wounded on a bloody slab with weapons and arrows alike sticking from him like a Goblin pincushion. Balin ran to his king, tears in his eyes, and took the dirty, injured hand._

_“Thorin. Thorin, we are here,” he said as Dwalin went around the slab to stand on Thorin’s other side. Crystal blue eyes slid open to stare at him, their vibrant color betraying the extent of their owner’s injuries._

_“Balin… D-Dwalin. You are all right.” Thorin said quietly, his voice strained with pain. He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, then relaxed again and opened them. “My nephews… Fili… Kili. Did they make it?”_

_The brothers shared a look, then Balin nodded. Better to lie to his friend than to have him die in misery._

_“They are injured, but they are all right. Oin is keeping them dormant, though, so as to not further their wounds.”_

_Thorin accepted his explanation with a nod and closed his eyes again, his breathing growing shallower by the second. Balin swallowed harshly and squeezed the hand in his own, receiving a weak squeeze in return before the hand went limp and the last breath left his friend. Balin choked on his sorrow and bowed his head, closing his eyes against the flood of tears. He felt Dwalin’s hand on his shoulder, but could not bring himself to look up at him, and for some time they both stood there surrounding their king until it was time to take him away to join his nephews in the tombs._

_Time passed, as it tends to do, but the pain of losing his king and young princes was growing heavier with each passing day. Balin found himself standing outside more and more, looking to the boundaries of their mountain, wondering and wandering further and further to the extents of his mind. Dain had taken over as king after all had been settled and restored, and while they all agreed that he was a fair ruler, those of Thorin’s company were facing hardships being led by one who was not Thorin. Many had left Erebor, some going back to Ered Luin while some decided to strike out on their own. Some had even gone to live amongst the Men to work as blacksmiths, and those who had not left had instead subjected themselves to their rooms, many sharing rooms to fight off the loneliness that no amount of companionship could heal._

_Balin couldn’t stand it. Thorin was his king, had always been his king, and he hated Dain with an unjustified passion every time he looked to him. Leaving his ledge, he went through the halls that had since been restored to their former glory until his feet led him to Dwalin’s room. He found his brother at the window, staring longingly out at the skyline lost in his thoughts as he often was lately._

_“I cannot stay here anymore, Dwalin.”_

_The larger dwarf turned to face him, a saddened look upon his face. “Where will you go?,” he asked. He knew better than to argue. It was hard enough for him to stay, but he could not leave the home that Thorin had given his life to reclaim for them._

_“I am thinking of trying to retake Moria once more. Perhaps now the enemy’s number will be fewer, since so many battles have been fought. And it has been so many years…”_

_Dwalin nodded. “Who will you take with you?”_

_“I will request to take Flói, Óin, Ori, Frár, Lóni ,and Náli, among others. I would ask you to come, but I know your place is here.”_

_The younger nodded and sighed softly, then got to his feet and went to hug the smaller Dwarf._

_“I do believe you have shrunk since Hobbiton,” he said, causing Balin to chuckle softly._

_“I believe we all have a bit, brother.”_

_“When are you to leave, then?,” Dwalin asked as he released his brother from the hug and stepped away. Balin shoved his hands into his pockets._

_“I am going now to request the company of Dwarves, and hope to leave by tomorrow morn.”_

_Dwalin nodded again. “Do be careful, brother. I cannot bear the loss of another loved one.”_

_Balin returned his nod, knowing well the extent of the heartache his brother spoke of. “I promise, Dwalin. I would not intentionally put any of us through the pain of another loss.”_

_Their goodbyes were quick and quiet, neither truly wanting to say goodbye at all, and by the next morning, Balin was setting out with his own company of Dwarves towards Moria, his heart feeling heavier and yet lighter concurrently with each step away from Erebor._

_Balin had been right. The Orcs were much fewer in number, and were easily wiped out upon the Dwarves’ return. Moria was in shambles, but the company quickly set to fixing it up, and within a few short years, the city was beginning to look like it had in olden days. In the depths, they found stores of Mithril and precious stones, as well as the axe of Durin. Years had passed with no incident, but nothing good could ever come to the fated city of Moria. Wandering down the halls one day, lost in thought about travelling back to visit his brother and the others in Erebor, Balin didn’t hear the scuffling sound from the darkness ahead of his torchlight. In fact, the Goblin remained completely hidden to him until the twang of a bow sounded, echoing off the stone walls as the arrow struck itself straight into Balin’s chest._

_“No…” The whispered word was lost to the shrieking of the Goblin as it came to check on him before running away, no doubt to warn the others of their presence._

_Darkness was falling fast, his blood pooling out away from his body across the cold stone. This was not how it was to end. He had to warn the others of the Goblins. They would be caught by surprise and killed. He had to warn them. Picking up his axe, he strained against his weakening body to lift it before letting it fall back to the stone, the metal clanging loudly and echoing back up the hall. Again and again he forced himself to pick it up, until he could hear voices calling and could see the blurry lines of torches coming near._

_“I am sorry, Dwalin,” he whispered as his eyes slid closed and his hand loosened around his axe. “I should never have left our home. I am sorry…”_

_Balin heard a voice calling his name, but it sounded so far away, and the light behind his eyelids was fading into nothingness. Suddenly it was dark, blacker than the darkest moonless night, and yet there was no worry of what lay hidden in the dark. Some intuitive knowledge told him that the darkness was safe, and as he fell further into it, he felt the pain leaving his body. He felt the guilt over not protecting the princes, the sorrow of losing Thorin, the loneliness of living under Dain’s rule, and even the regret of leaving his brother… He felt it all wash away, as if by a cleansing rain that left no trace of moisture in the air. Suddenly he was laying on a solid surface once more, but it was not the cold hardness of the stone upon which he had died; rather, it was a warm, comforting surface, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself staring up into a canopy of trees through which filtered sunbeams that put all the gold of Erebor to shame._

_“Where am I?,” he asked to no one in particular. Slowly he sat up, expecting to feel the pain of his injury, but there was nothing. If anything, he felt better than he had in decades._

_“Hello?”_

_“Balin!”_

_He turned at the sudden outburst, his eyes widening at the impossible sight._

_“This cannot be. You cannot be…”_

_Kili smiled down at him, that happy smile none of them save Fili had seen for some time before the final battle outside Erebor._

_“It’s all right, Balin,” the youngster said as an Elf walked up beside him, bowing to the elder Dwarf. “Welcome to the Grey Havens.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are loved :)


End file.
